


Everything is Grey

by eudaimonic



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character with PTSD, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Not Epilogue Compliant, PTSD, Quite a bit of angst, draco is a bleeding heart, fred is the leader of a ghost club, ginny and luna are harry's therapists, harry is oddly clueless as ever, luna is just lovely to everybody, mentions of depression, nobody can get along, ron really doesn't suit purple, there are ghosts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-09-15
Packaged: 2018-04-14 22:04:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4581825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eudaimonic/pseuds/eudaimonic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the war ended, the colours all seemed to fade to an ugly muted grey. Like, with the last dazzling green spark, went the last remaining colour in all of the world. </p><p>{The lighthearted - but also really not - story of how Draco Malfoy the insomniac ex-death eater became fiends with Harry Potter, the boy who never really lived at all FT smartarse best friends, pranking ghosts, meddling seventh years, and twenty-four severely pissed off eighth years}</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1: Letters

**Author's Note:**

> You're dripping like a saturated sunlight  
> You're spilling like an overflowing sink  
> You're ripped at every edge but you're a masterpiece  
> And now I'm tearing through the pages and the ink  
> {Colors / Halsey}

**Harry**

 

 

 

 

He was at the Burrow the day his letter arrived; sitting alone at the kitchen table while the Weasley's puttered around outside. The snowy owl reminded him of Hedwig, so he quickly fed it some leftover eggs from breakfast and shooed it back out the window, feeling guilty when the owl ruffled it's feathers, affronted. Really, he knew he was being unreasonable - the owl did look different; it had a ring of grey around it's left eye that Hedwig never had and it's feathers were plumper, less sharp, but the stark white colour had set something off in the back of his mind, causing his throat to close up and his chest to ache hollowly. Outside, he could see Hermione eagerly reading her letter, Ron staring blankly at the paper like it was written in a foreign language and Ginny grinning excitedly. His own letter felt heavy gripped between his fingertips, he knew what it would say, the purple seal on the back of the envelope told him exactly what he needed to know about what was written in that letter - and Hermione's face told him everything else.

 We would be returning to Hogwarts. 

 As he watched, Hermione's head whipped up in the direction of the kitchen window, and she grinned at him with her too straight teeth - for a second, Harry could've sworn he saw big sticky-out teeth and a more rounded face, but then he blinked and it was this Hermione again; the Hermione with the small slim white scar on her throat and shadow behind the browns of her eyes. The one that - out of habit - wore her hair tied back, always prepared for a war that had already happened. The one that constantly whipped her head in his direction when he was quiet for too long of a time, just to make sure he was there. That he hadn't died in the forest, that it wasn't all just a dream. He understood, really, that's why he never asked for his jeans back, because he knows that having them packed in her bag, ready for if they needed to run again, kept her sane - and deep down, knowing that at least one of them was prepared for if that happened kept him sane too. Her grin widened as she held up her letter, mouthing the words "we're going home!" to him through the dusty panes of glass. He nodded, returning the smile as best he could.

 Molly Weasely squeezed Ron's cheeks between her hands, grinning from ear to ear as his own ears turned a bright shade of magenta. Ginny Weasley laughed at her brother's expense, and Arthur Weasley gently coaxed his close-to-tears wife away from their embarrassed son. Harry  had always been envious of the Weasley's; for a while he had felt like a part of their family. For a while, it was almost expected that he would eventually become a part of their family - if not by blood then by marriage. But the war ruined that too. Of course, it wasn't a bad thing - he and Ginny both agreed, after all, that it didn't feel right after everything. There was a wedge lodged between them, they were better off as friends. 

 The kitchen door opened, and Hermione entered, a grining Ginny at her side - both of them having sneaked away to join him while he was lost in his own thoughts. 

 "Harry!" Hermione trilled, delight lacing her tone. "Aren't you excited? We're going back!"

 "Yeah, Hermione, it's fantastic." He replied, not quiet as enthusiastic as he would have been, usually, before. "Where's Ron?"

 Ginny skipped forward, taking the empty chair beside Harry, her long red hair swaying behind her back. " _Ronnie-kins_ is still outside trying to get mum to stop pinching his cheeks. She's _'o_ _h so absolutely thrilled'_ that Ron will be able to finish school!"

 Harry smiled at that, imagining Ron whining and trying to push away a gushing Mrs Weasley. "I'll bet she's glad."

 Ginny laughed. "Yeah, I guess two dropouts are e-" she cut off abruptly, and just like that the happy facade was broken, the colour left her face all at once and even Hermione looked a bit stricken. The situation had crept up on them, and now none of them knew how to handle it. Because nobody had tried to deal with Fred's death - least of all George, who swears he can still hear Fred talking to him. "Enough." she whispered, then "excuse me." as she made a hasty exit to her room, footsteps slamming against the wooden stairs, the door slamming closed a moment later. 

 Slowly, Harry stood, his letter gripped in his hands like a vice. "I think I'm going to go read this upstairs." 

 "I'll come with you!" 

 "Alone, Hermione." Harry felt bad for the dejected expression on her face, but he didn't much feel up for her running commentary now. Whatever the letter had to say, he'd rather read it alone in his room - the room that used to belong to Fred and George. The room that now belongs to nobody because Fred is dead and George lives alone in a flat above a joke shop that is always producing new things, too many at a time, as if the toys would fill a void. 

 As Harry was walking up the stairs, his own footsteps ghosting in the path of Ginny's heavy ones, he heard the backdoor open and Ron's voice float up to him.

 "Where'd Harry go?"

 "He's going to read his letter alone, Ronald." Hermione's followed, mellow and tight.

 "Oh."

 Harry closed the door, blocking off anything else they said, and threw himself down on the bed on the left hand side of the room, ignoring the empty space where he knew another bed once sat, ignoring the boxes filled with things that would never be claimed. With nothing better to do, other than wallow in his own melancholia, he tore open the purple seal, and pulled out the pieces of folded parchment inside. The first piece of parchment made him freeze, because instead of the usual green curly handwriting of Albus Dumbledore, there was the plain black neat scribe of Minerva McGonagall. He felt his heart physically stutter in his chest at the reminder, but it wasn't as painful as it should be - he'd had over a year to come to peace with the death of his old headmaster. He'd moved on.  

 

_Dear Mr Potter,_

 

_In light of recent events, it has been a major concern that many of the students in their seventh year of education at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry have been unable to properly complete their education - therefore, it has been decided that all students in seventh year during the 1997-1998 school year are invited to return to the school as honorary eighth year students in order to complete their schooling and take their N.E.W.T examinations._

_We are hoping that you would be privy to return to the school on the 1st of September with the other students, where you will be introduced to the newly refurbished Hogwarts Castle, and your own Eighth year dormitory. Please send your reply as soon as possible._

 

_Yours,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

 

 

Harry threw the letter aside, he'd reply later, and stared at the second, thinner piece of parchment. He unfolded the note with a feeling of trepidation, and read with the same sort of hesitation but eagerness. 

 

_Harry,_

_I am aware that education must be the last thing on your mind, however, as you missed an entire year of schooling I must ask that you please consider returning. Hogwarts is a home to all of it's students, and - if you would excuse my forwardness - I believe it is a home more so to you. As it stands, I'm sure Miss Granger will not take you not returning anyhow, therefore, I shall see you in September along with Mr Weasley._

_Professor McGonagall_

 

Harry snorted, knowing that everything the woman wrote was true. He felt a twinge of respect for her, for not watching her words around him like most of the people that knew him, for never hero-worshiping him or hating him like so many others.

 It would be a long year, but nothing he couldn't handle. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

A second letter arrived for the trio a few days after Hermione sent off all three of their acceptances with Pigwigeon, who was more than excited to be delivering three letters. The little owl barely even seemed to be able to fly under the weight of the no-doubt lengthy replies Hermione had spouted off for them, so it was no surprise when Pig returned, followed by a different brown short eared owl who seemed eager to be rid of the nuisance. 

 "These one's are rather thick! Reckon they're the list of everything we're going to need?" Ron asked, looking more than a bit worried. 

 Hermione pondered it, turning the parchment around in her hands while Harry fed both owls an owl treat. "Probably, but I think there'll be more in here than just our required reading list!" 

 Harry moved over to join the couple at the table, sitting opposite them. "Shall we read it and find out?"

 In typical Hermione fashion, she either ignored Harry's sarcasm or completely missed it. "Yes, we should."

 And they all dug in. 

 The first shock came when a small key fell out of each envelope, Harry's landing on the table with a 'clunk' while Ron's scattered across the floor and Hermone's landed deftly in her open palm.

 "Keys?" Ron questioned, after picking his off the floor and dusting it off on his burgundy jumper. 

 "For the dorms I presume." Hermione clarified, already scanning her eyes over one of the pieces of parchment. "They're supposed to have numbers on them, showing us which dorm we are in."

 Harry inspected his key closely, and sure enough there was a number 9 engraved on the handle of his shiny silver key. 

 "Dorm 9!" Ron exclaimed, "Harry?"

 "Same, mate!"

 "Brilliant! What about you, 'Mione?"

 She looked put out. "Dorm 2, and it doesn't say who with."

 Ron's face fell. "That's bollocks. I hope you're not with someone horrible - like Pansy Parkinson!"

 Hermione pulled a face, and Harry snorted out a laugh at her horrified expression. "Surely, I hope not!"

 "Who knows," Harry intoned, "she might not even come back."

 It was silent for a moment, his words sinking in. None of them knew who was coming back. 

 "That would be a relief, wouldn't it?" Ron broke the sudden tension, and Harry laughed at the slightly giddy expression on his face - trust Ron to miss the sudden heaviness in the room. "Let's hope she doesn't, yeah?"

 "Yeah, mate."

 Just then, Mrs Weasely came bustling into the kitchen from the garden, a basket of freshly picked vegetables in her hands. "Oh! You got your letters! Well, what do you need?"

 She busied herself wish washing the vegetables in the sink. "We haven't gotten to that part yet, mum."

 "Oh, well hurry up! We're going to need to organise a trip to Diagon Alley and we can't do that if you lot have no idea what youre supposed to be buying!"

 Harry shuffled through the parchments, putting aside the one that said "Welcome to Eighth Year" on the top - he'd read that later. Another appeared to be a letter about the changes to the school and the rules - he would also read that later - and finally, he came across the list of necessary supplies. 

 "Looks like we need dress robes again..." Ron sighed, Hermione looked positively delighted. 

 "Brilliant." Harry said, preferring to forget about that particular detail immediately.

 "Ohhh! I can't wait to help you pick out colours, Hermione dear don't you think Ron would look dashing in purple?" Mrs Weasley exclaimed, her shrill voice two octaves higher with excitement.

 Hermione hid a smirk behind her hand. "Yes, dashing!"

 Ron scowled. "Mum! I am not wearing purple."

 "But Ron-"

 "No."

 "Oh, come on Ron!" Harry joined in. "Can't be worse than the bonnet."

 Ron shook his head gravely. "Mate... You've never seen me in purple. I look atrocious, it clashes horribly with my hair!"

 "I suppose he'd look rather like an Oompa Loompa, Harry - except backwards." Hermione giggled.

 Harry almost choked on his own spit. Ron looked affronted.

 "What's an Umpy Lumpy?"

 "An Oompa Loompa, Ronald, are little men with orange skin and green hear who wear garishly bright clothes and sing songs about children turning into blueberries."

 Both Ron and Mrs Weasley looked sufficiently scared, and Harry could barely control his laughter anymore, clutching his stomach as silent giggles rocked his whole body.

 "I-I dont-I look absolutely nothing like that!" Ron yelped, equal parts confused, scared and insulted.

 Hermione laughed some more, and patted Ron's shoulder. "No, but its the principle of clashing bright colours."

 "I don't know what you muggles come up with - but I never want to meet an Oompy Loompy." Mrs Weasely said, returning to washing her vegetables. 

 "They're fictional, don't worry. One day we'll watch Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory and you'll see." 

 "Watch? Like on the telly-vision!" 

 Hermione smiled lovingly, moving her hand up from his shoulder to caress his cheek before dropping it back onto her lap. "Yes, Ronald, the 'telly-vision'"

 Over by the sink, Mrs Weasely clapped her hands. "Right! Back to those lists - what else do you need?"

 Harry looked down at his list, and read while Hermione spouted off the list outloud for Mrs Weasely.

 

  * 1 Cauldron
  * 1 Set of Glass or Crystal phials
  * Dress Robes
  * 1 Book of Everyday Spells for the Handy Witch
  * 1 Muggle Cooking Book (any)



 

"We already have cauldrons and phials, right?" Hermione asked, squinting at her parchment suspiciously. Harry was a bit unsure also - why would they need a muggle cooking book?

 Ron looked sheepish at Hermione's question. "I need new phials."

 Hermione scked the inside of her cheek for a moment. "I think I have some spares you can have."

 Ron looked happy, leaned over and kissed his girlfriend on the cheek. "You're the best, 'Mione."

 She looked flustered. "Yes, well, where would you be without me?"

 Nobody answered, because the answer everyone was thinking was 'dead' - which would undoubtedly be the corrct answer. Either that or, 'still at war - and losing'.

 "So all we need are the dress robes and the books?" They all nodded in agreement. "We all still have the books we need for our other classes?" Again, everyone nodded. "Excellent."

 "I'll go get Ginny, and then we can be off to Diagon Alley?"

 "Straight away?" Harry asked, unable to hide his surprise.

 "Well, it's only 2 o'clock, dears, we may as well! Today is as good as any."

 Harry had been completely unprepared for a day out - and the sudden dread of being surrounded by people who only saw him as the 'hero of the wizarding world' left him feeling dazed, but, like Mrs Weasely said, today is as good as any - no matter how much preparation. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Getting fitted for robes took longer than it ever had before, Madam Malkin would apologise profusely whenever she would accidentally poke him with her needle and Ron spent entirely too long looking at colours, only to choose a plain black fabric anyway. Harry himself choose a green robe rather similar to the one Mrs Weasely had picked out for him back in fourth year, except this one was more detailed with a black trim. Hermione wouldn't let anyone see her dress robe, despite it being unfinished and therefore a moot point, she refused to give anyone except Ginny even the slightest peek at the fabric she had picked out. Ginny herself, chose  rather pretty looking white fabric for her dress, complete with a lace finish and an equally white ribbon. Madam Malkin promised to have their orders made as a priority and that they would be mailed to them before they were due back at school on the 1st of September, which, given that it was only the 12th of August, wasn't that big of a stretch - but Harry nodded politely and thanked the woman, who also promised them their own special eighth year robes - which had all four of them shrugging as they left the shop, wandering why they would require 'special' eighth year robes. 

The next stop was Flourish and Blott's for their books, Ginny and Mrs Weasely immediately disappearing behind some shelves as they searched for the books Ginny would need - the trio only needed one book, and they found it right next to an old friend. 

"Neville!" Hermione exclaimed, surprised at seeing the boy with The Book Of Everyday Spells for the Handy which in one hand and an advanced herbology book in the other. 

"Hey guys!" Neville greeted them happily, "you're all going back?" 

"Of course, mate!" Ron said, grabbing a book for himself and handing one to Hermione and Harry respectively. "You really think this one would let us  _not_ go back?"

Neville juggled both books in his hands nervously. "Well, there are a few people who aren't going back - from what little I've heard... Maybe you guys know a bit more than me?"

Harry shook his head sadly. "We haven't heard anything at all."

"Oh, well, I bumped into the Patil twins the other day while I was with my Gran, and Parvati didn't really talk at all but Padma told me that they were going to France, to Beauxbatons to finish their final year."

Harry was surprised, but then the memory of Lavender Brown lying dead underneath a blanket in the great hall came to the forefront of his mind and suddenly he wasnt so surprised anymore - Hermione seemed to share his sentiment.

"Really?!" said Ron, but then a moment later his facial expression changed too, and his hand reached out to grab Hermione's. "Yeah, I guess that wasn't all-together  _too_ unexpected." 

"Yeah." Neville agreed, nodding. "It was good to see you guys, but I've got to keep looking for the books I need - all of mine were lost last year."

"Good to see you, Neville." Hermione said, offering him a small wave. Ron nodded, and Harry really tried to return the small smile Neville gave him. He really did. 

When they leave Flourish and Blott's, the fresh paint on Ollivanders' stands out all to much, and the gawping people around them fade into the background as they exit into Muggle London to get their final supply. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Standing on Platform 9¾ seems surreal and vaguely terrifying.  Harry had never had a quiet year at Hogwarts, and something told him that year would be no different from the rest; he ignored Ron's questioning gaze and Hermione's roving eyes as she hunted down any other eighth year students, and stepped onto the train - for once in his life, not at the very last moment, right before it leaves. Hermione and Ron followed him to the compartment they met in in first year, and they sunk into their seats with mixed emotions. 

"This is it." Hermione said, her voice quiet.

"Yeah." Ron gulps, his voice strained and croaky around a dry throat. "We're going to Hogwarts."

If Harry had opened his mouth in that moment, he would have cried of happiness - because it finally set in just how much he couldn't leave Hogwarts. His first home. He was going back.


	2. Chapter 2: Omens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco can see the thestrals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well after all, we'll lie another day  
> And through it all, we'll find some other way  
> To carry on through cartilage and fluid  
> And did you come to stare or wash away the blood? 
> 
> {Desert Song / My Chemical Romance}

_ **Draco** _

 

 

 

Draco wouldn't admit to hesitating on the platform at Hogsmeade, but he did - and who would blame him? The sudden appearance of the large, dark, skeletal and vaguely horse-like creatures pulling the carriages made most students over the age of sixteen pause, stare, like they were seeing death themselves. Which, from what Draco knew of the creatures he appeared to be seeing, wasn't all too far off. Omens of death, some say they are, but they are not omens of death; they are a side effect of death. An unwanted addition to the world after an unwanted subtraction. 

 _Fitting,_ he thought,  _that a supposed omen of death should look like death itself._  

Tentatively - because Malfoys aren't scared of magical beasts - he reached out to touch the scaly looking snout of the thestral strapped up the carriage in front of him. Its skin felt waxy, and the bones underneath felt oddly strong for a creature so ill looking. The thestral's breath was cool as it curled around Draco's pale wrist, where his shirt sleeve had ridden up, his school robe folded neatly over other his arm. The remembered smell of smoke and burning filled his nostrils, Crabbe's yells invading his ears just like in his dreams; seeing the boy, once his friend, burn right before his eyes.  _What's more fitting,_ he pondered,  _is that something so simple as death would be the thing to break the illusion that the once magical carriages from first year pulled themselves - no, they never pulled themselves, we just couldn't see it before._

"They're quite beautiful, aren't they?" A small voice said to his left, and Draco turned to properly talk to the girl beside him - because that's what Malfoys do. Luna Lovegood's hair was as tangled and dirty as ever, but Draco couldn't bring himself to sneer at the girl he had come to befriend those months she was prisoner in his home. 

"I don't see how." He said honestly, turning back to the creature so that he wouldn't have to look at her impossibly wide, childlike eyes; Malfoy manners be damned. 

"Not so much physically..." Luna trailed off, as if thinking of the right words to say. "...More, well, they have a certain charm about them, don't you think?" Draco snorted, and Luna reached into the pocket of her robe to feed the thestral a slab of meat she just so happened to be carrying. The beast lapped it up, ruffling it's bat-like wings with apparent happiness. Draco really didn't expect Luna to carry on with her explanation, but after months of the strange girl never exactly filling his expectations, he wasn't too surprised when she did anyway. "People don't like them because they look dangerous, and they're regarded a bad omen because of the nature of which they appear to us - but they're possibly the most docile creatures on earth. They're misunderstood, is all."

"Misunderstood." Draco repeated, not entirely sure he agreed with Luna's assessment. 

"Yes." She said, her whimsical voice floating over the quiet hum of the students in the background, still getting off the train. 

Draco liked Luna, despite her bedraggled and childish appearance and somewhat  _unorthodox_ views, she was a likable person. She was the only person at the school who truly understood what it was like at Malfoy Manor in those months, the sole confidant in Draco's life at the time. She had helped him when he was forced to watch and sometimes participate in the torture of innocent people in his own home, she hadn't judged him when he told her his situation - and in the end, she had helped him avoid prison, unlike his father. Her testimony, combined with Potter's, securing his freedom and safety from being labelled a Death Eater - because Draco may have the mark, but he was never one of them. 

"Luna-"

"Draco?!"  _Damn._

Draco turned, and his mood turned sour as he noticed Luna skipping away to another carriage - knowing the company she keeps, he daren't look at the occupants of said carriage; instead, he plastered on his fakest smile and greeted Pansy with a more than awkward one armed hug, which she threw herself into with an unrequited eagerness. 

"Draco you disappeared off the train so quick! We wandered where you had gone." Pansy made a vague waving gesture to the group of Slytherins behind her, Blaise giving him a knowing smirk, before she continued talking. "Anyway, that doesn't matter - why were you talking to Loony Lovegood?"

Draco scowled, annoyed by Pansy's insult. " _Luna_ is my friend, Pans."

Pansy looped her arm through Draco's and forcibly maneuvered him onto the carriage he had been standing beside, pulling him onto the bench next to her as he tried to move away to sit opposite; Blaise, Daphne, Millicent, Theodore and Goyle dropping down onto the seats around them. Blaise's foot hit his as he sat down opposite him, right in between Millicent and Daphne, and beside him, Theodore was saying something about how many hufflepuffs would be returning this year.

"I'd be surprised if there were more than two!" He was saying, "they aren't very study inclined."

"What, and you are?" Daphne quipped, Millicent snorted.

A finger snapped in front of his face, and his attention was drawn back to a rather miffed looking Pansy. "Hello? Draco, we were having a conversation."

Draco had been under the impression that their 'conversation' was over, but nothing is over until Pansy says so.

" _As I was saying_ ," Pansy shifted a bit in her seat, her knees touching the side of Draco's thigh and one of her hands resting on his shoulder. Draco felt caged in all of a sudden, and he shot a nervous glance to Blaise, who  _accidentally_ kicked Pansy's shin as he stretched.

"Oops, _sorry Pans."_   Pansy shot him an annoyed glare.

" _As I was saying,_ Draco, Loony can't be your friend! She is in Ravenclaw and you are in Slytherin, not to mention that she is younger and  _have you seen the way she dresses?!_ " Pansy shuddered, Draco rolled his eyes. "No, I will not have it! She is bellow you, Draco - she may have helped you stay out of Azkaban, but that doesn't mean she is your friend."

Draco disagreed, but when Pansy had an opinion she was always right, so, instead of having to face her wrath, he chose to keep quiet on the matter. The girl smiled, complacent, and wrapped her arm more securely around Draco's neck, leaning in so that her head was resting against his shoulder and her legs were practically laying across his lap. Draco hated it, hated the way her hair got in his face and in his mouth, hated the way her knees felt, heavy over his own. Suddenly, the girl jumped away from him, leveling a glare at Blaise.

"Blaise! Would you stop kicking me!" She yelled, her grating voice piercing Draco's eardrums from where she was still sat way too close to him.

" _Sorry Pans."_   The boy replied, heavy sarcasm lacing his tone. Fire flared in Pansy's eyes, and before she could make herself comfortable in Draco's lap again, he turned away and joined Theodore and Daphne's discussion on who they wouldn't mind returning and who they might have to shove in a cabinet Montague style. The reference brought back painful memories, but anything was better than Pansy all over him like a fungus he can't seem to get rid of.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When they got to the castle, McGonnagal was waiting for them just inside the entrance hall, a small group of other eighth years standing off to side awaiting her instruction, to no surprise but most definitely to Draco's dismay, Potter among them; standing with Weasely and Granger and their other Gryffindor housemates - Longbottom, Finnigan and Thomas. The group came to a halt a safe distance away from the other students, but close enough to be considered part of their group, and Draco took this time to put on his school robe, straightening his new purple school tie as he did so - Draco liked the purple, not as much as the green, but purple was good colour, fit for royalty.

" _Five_ badgers?!" He heard Theodore mutter from beside him, and then a muffled "shut up" as Daphne grinned triumphantly.

"I didn't say anything." She smirked. 

"I know what you were going to say."

"And what's that? That you were wrong?" Draco rolled his eyes, and Theodore 'humphed' dramatically. 

"I  _was not wrong-"_

"If you two could stop your bickering, we may begin. I have other places to be tonight." Professor McGonnagal interrupted, stern faced, and Draco could almost see the words dying on Theo's tongue. "Well then, now that you're all here-"

" _All?!"_  Granger interrupted, throwing her hand into the air as an afterthought. 

McGonnagal pursed her lips, but allowed the interruption to slide. "Yes, Miss Granger, there are twenty-four returning students and as you may well count, you are all presently here. Now may I continue?" The girl nodded, a small embarrassed smile on her face. Draco noted the way her hand was curled around Weasley's,  _so they'd finally gotten together then, had they?_  "Thank you, as I was saying, all twenty-four of you will sit together on a separate eighth year table - as you can tell by your ties, there will be no more houses for you." Pansy scoffed from somewhere behind him, and Draco noted the angry red colour Weasley's ears were turning - not a fan of purple then. Draco didn't bother reacting; McGonnagal may say these things, but there will always be house segregation in their year. They had all already made their friends and ties - and no amount of purple could remove his Slytherin pride. 

"With all due respect, professor, but I don't think wearing purple is going to make any of us more friendly to eachother." The Weasel said, and Draco didn't miss the pointed glance he sent in his direction, returning it with a sneer. 

McGonnagal tutted. "Yes, well, we shall discuss it after the feast Mr Weasley - you all will remain at your table after so that I may show you to your new common room."

Draco felt something sinking inside of him;  _he would have to share a common room_. Share with these people who hated him and he hated, share with self-righteous Gryffindors and smartarse Ravenclaws and far to friendly Hufflepuffs. _How was he going to survive?_

Without another word, the Eighth year students trailed into the Great Hall, muttering between themselves as they made their way towards the table at the front of the room, parallel to the teacher's table. Draco scoffed with forced humour as, despite McGonnagal's wishes, everyone sat with their ex-housemates. Gryffindor at the top end, then Hufflepuff, then Ravenclaw, and then, with at least two spaces between them and the other houses, were Slytherin - perfectly comfortable sitting away from everyone else. The Great Hall was far too silent as the Eighth years got situated, and Draco looked around to see that almost every person in the hall was staring at them - or rather, staring at Harry. 

Just then, the door to the side of the hall opened, and in trailed the first years - more than Draco had ever seen before in previous years, all of them bright eyed and fresh faced with robes that were just slightly too big and smiles that were slightly too wide. Draco looked away, and stared at a floating candle above Professor Sinistra's head while the sorting hat started it's verse.

 

 

 

> _A thousand years or so ago_
> 
> _When Hogwarts was a dream,_
> 
> _Four wizards came together_
> 
> _To make a lovely team._
> 
>  
> 
> _They worked together,_
> 
> _Their friendship strong,_
> 
> _And decided on creating me_
> 
> _To sing this lovely song._
> 
>  
> 
> _Though tragedy would strike_
> 
> _As arrogance took hold._
> 
> _And shrewd Slytherin thought Gryffindor_
> 
> _Was getting rather bold._
> 
>  
> 
> _And so the friendships crumbled,_
> 
> _As four turned to three._
> 
> _And Hogwarts failed to reach their standards_
> 
> _Of perfect harmony._
> 
>  
> 
> _So won't you listen to me now,_
> 
> _I do not have much time._
> 
> _The houses will become again_
> 
> _What once they used to be._
> 
> _Sweet Hufflepuff, strong Gryffindor,_
> 
> _Loyal to the bone._
> 
> _Sophisticated Slytherin,_
> 
> _Wit beyond what's shown._
> 
> _Smart Ravenclaw will join them_
> 
> _With knowledge beyond what's known._
> 
> _And with these four in place,_
> 
> _Hogwarts will once again_
> 
> _Be everybody's home._
> 
>  
> 
> _A reminder to all of you,_
> 
> _At least I give you that,_
> 
> _The war is done and Hogwarts won,_
> 
> _You need not swing the bat._
> 
> _But you may ignore warning,_
> 
> _For I'm only just a hat._
> 
>  
> 
>  

The hat fell silent once more, and the hall erupted into polite applause. Draco himself felt stiff as he forced his hands to clap, his mind too busy sorting through the Hat's words, wandering what they could mean. Professor McGonall stepped forward, a large roll of parchment in hand, and the sorting ceremony began. Draco didn't much care for the ceremony, he'd seen it all before, and this year was no different except for the bout of overbearing silence when the first unfortunate student was sorted into Slytherin house. The dark haired girl looked freaked as she walked towards the green and silver bannered table, the smile slipping smoothly off her face when nobody clapped like for the others before her - muggle born, something very rare among snakes. Draco found himself watching her as the sorting continued, an odd prideful sensation filling him when the girl quickly recovered from her rude welcome to Slytherin house.  _Eleven years old and already showing more Slytherin sensibility than anyone else on that table._

Before he even knew it, the sorting was over and Professor McGonnagal was stepping up to the podium. The witch didn't quite look as powerful as Dumbledore did up there, but she looked a sight better than Snape ever did. 

"Students! If I could have your attention please..." She sent a stern glare in the direction of some rowdy third years over at the Gryffindor table. "Thank you. Now, as you all heard from the sorting hat, unity is key here at Hogwarts - and not just _inter_ -house unity." 

"Did you notice how little people were sorted into Slytherin?" Pansy whispered in his ear.

"Shh, I want to hear what she has to say."

"But there were only a few!"

"Shut it, Pans." Draco snapped, the girl looked offended but promptly shut her mouth and turned away.

"Therefore, I have decided to make some changes here at Hogwarts." Professor McGonnagal continued, eyes roaming the hall. "As of now, students are invited to sit anywhere they wish in the great hall. There will no longer be house specific tables."

A great hush fell over the room at her words, and then the whole hall burst into chatter.

"That is ridiculous!" Pansy screeched, her eyes flashing. Somewhere down the table, Draco vaguely heard Justin Finch-Fletchley - a hufflepuff - shout just the same thing. 

Draco couldn't help himself, he leaned forward slightly and glanced down the table out of the corner of his eye. Potter was sitting next to Granger and opposite Weasley - Draco couldn't see his face from that angle, but he so would have liked to - Granger looked pleased, her eyes already roaming the hall to see if anyone would take up the invitation. Potter, on the other hand, wore a completely neutral expression, though he too seemed to be watching the other students. 

"Calm down, Pansy, nobody will move." Millicent said, but just as she said it, the hush fell over the hall again as a lone student stood up. 

The Slytherin first year girl Draco had been watching had risen out of her seat, stoic expression still in place as she turned up her nose at the other Slythrins and strutted over to the Ravenclaw table, where she was welcomed with a bright smile by another first year girl with gapped front teeth and short black hair.  _It must have been her sister._

Then, like clockwork, a few other students took her lead; a short Hufflepuff boy with bright ginger hair like the Weasel made a quick dash over to Slytherin table to sit with a girl who moved subtly closer to her friend, giving everyone a cold glare in warning. A few older Gryffindors, bravely stood and moved to the Ravenclaw table where one of them - who Draco recognised as being on the Gryffindor Quidditch Team was greeted with a chaste kiss by his, presumed, girlfriend. And then, as if it couldnt get anymore shocking, Luna Lovegood stood up and made her way to the eighth year table. 

Sitting down right next to Draco.

Draco kept his expression cool as he glanced at Pansy, who was fuming at his side, and then he turned to Luna with a raised eyebrow and a small smirk which just wouldn't go away no matter how hard he tried.

"Hello, Draco." Luna said, her voice airy and light like the whole room wasn't staring at her. 

"Hello, Luna." Draco replied, biting his lip to keep the smirk from spreading as every mouth on the eighth year table dropped open in unison. Draco cracked again, glancing down the table to see Granger with a look of pure awe on her face and Potter with simple confusion and a tinge of curiosity. Oh, how Draco loved being an enigma. 

"I'm really looking forward to the pudding." Luna said, then turned, eyes wide as if just noticing the other's there for the first time. "Hello everyone else, I don't know all of your names..."

Draco smiled, filled with a sudden warmth at Luna's innocence - and then Pansy spoke. 

"I don't think you're allowed to sit here." She said pointedly, her words almost a hiss as she glared daggers around Draco and at the oblivious girl besides him. 

"Why not?" The girl asked, Draco shot a glare at Pansy.

" _Because_... Because we aren't a house! We're eighth years." The argument was weak, and Pansy folded her arms petulantly - telling Draco that she knew it was weak.

Then, to more surprise, Blaise leaned forward from where he was sat opposite Luna. "But we are a house,  _Pans,_ and she can sit here because Professor Mconnagal just said so," he sent a charming grin in McGonnagal's direction who was watching the exchange with eagle eyes. Then, Blaise stuck his hand out, "I'm Blaise, I've heard a lot about you."

Draco smiled, he couldn't help it, especially when Luna shook his hand enthusiastically and began listing all of the things she already knew about Blaise from Draco. 

"...and Draco tells me you're very nice! And a fan of the Holyhead Harpies, I like them too, and you're also-"

"That'll be enough, Miss Lovegood." Professor McGonnagal interrupted, though it wasn't nearly as stern as it could have been. Luna smiled, and rested both of her hands on the bench on either side of her, like she always does when sitting down. "Now - to clear up any confusion, there will still be house competition in quidditch and house points, and the common rooms will still be segregated, but now, members of other houses will be allowed inside common rooms if they are invited by a member of said house. Students, I would encourage you to make friends outside of your respective houses - if you haven't already - sometimes they make for the strongest of friendships."

"What a load of rubbish." Pansy muttered, Draco frowned.

"Moving on! I would like to introduce you to three of our newest members of staff: taking over my position of Transfigurations teacher is Professor Magenta Cresswell*," a polite round of applause went around for the kindly looking witch who stood towards the middle of the teacher's table, two down from the vacant headmaster's chair. "Our new Muggle Studies Professor, Phoebus Penrose," another polite round of applause. "And lastly, taking over the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, is Professor Elveira Elkins*." Another round of applause as a dark skinned witch with clear green eyes stood, a proud smirk on her lips. 

"I don't know why I bothered coming back!" Pansy continued, bitterly.

"Pansy be quiet." Draco scolded, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from saying more. 

"Now, I'm going to go over some rules..."

"It's ridiculous, the teachers are incompetent - McGonnagal has  _no_ idea how to run a school-"

"Pansy, shut up."

"Don't tell me to shut up, Draco." Pansy whisper shouted, eyes flashing once again.

Draco sneered at her. "I want to hear this!"

"Why? It's just the same rubbish as every other year!"

"I don't ca-" a warm hand snaked around his cold one resting against his thigh and Draco took a deep breath in, turning away from Pansy to focus once again on McGonnagal's speech, which was coming to an end. Luna squeezed his hand reassuringly, and Draco smiled. 

McGonnagal's speech came to an end, Pansy grumbling the whole way through. As Draco ate his food, Luna chattering away besides him to everyone in no more than two people away from here, he wished he could be in his old dorm, curled around a book like he used to do - but instead, he had to wait for McGonnagal to show them to their new dorm, which he'd worked out he would be sharing with Blaise, luckily - where he'd have to deal with seeing Potter every day. Eat meals with Potter. Go to classes with Potter. Probably play quidditch with Potter. Draco shivered, he'd rather give up quidditch than play  _with_ Potter and not against him - they're both seekers anyway, and there can only be one seeker. 

Maybe they wont even get to play quidditch this year.

 

 

* * *

 

 

At the end of the feast, all of the eighth years stayed seated at their table, Draco avoided eye contact with the others as he said goodbye to Luna, who skipped away with a quick wave to Granger, Potter and Weasely. Nobody said much of anything as McGonnagal approached, waiting until the hustle and bustle of the thinning crowd had completely diminished before talking.  

"Now students, if you would follow me I'll show you to your new common room where we can discuss things further." There was a mad scuffle as twenty-four students hurriedly scrambled out of their seats to follow Professor McGonnagal, Terry Boot and the Ravenclaws the first to catch up. "Your common room is located in the old clock tower - the clock was damaged in the battle and we were never able to repair it, so instead we restored the tower as a common room."

Draco was shocked, he had been wandering where their dormitory would be located, but he'd assumed it would be in one of the many unused rooms or cellars in the basement. Draco had never been in a tower common room before, he supposed it would be a nice change from murky cellars with green tinged lighting from the lake. Slytherin common room was alright once you got passed the feeling of being in a swamp or a dirty fishbowl - the mermaids rally were quite charming once you got passed their ugly faces squished up against the windows at two a.m when you need to pee and find out they've been watching you sleep. Draco had taken to charming the curtains on the window in his old dorm room closed, but Blaise liked to open them now and again just to mess with him.

Draco was so lost in his thoughts he didn't even notice they'd reached the third floor until they were already heading down the once prohibited third floor corridor. "The entrance to your common room is on the third floor, as you can see, and there is no code to enter as the door is charmed to only open at your touch. You may invite other students to your common room, as is now allowed. but you must let them in."

They had reached a grand wooden double door with a golden handle and golden doorknocker to match, the hallway was brightly lit with the usual paintings handing on the walls, a plush purple carpet covering most of the stone flooring. Nobody said much as McGonnagal opened the double doors, allowing the sight to sink in.

The common room was light and airy, but somehow warm and cosy at the same time. The colour themes were just as strong as they had been in Slytherin; Byzantium purples with purpureus and mauve. On either end of the spacious room were two large grey-stone fireplaces, the fire already crackling, plush looking sofas and chintz chairs surrounding both. The floor was a faded brown wood with a large patterned _purple_ carpet in the dead center where two semi-spiraling staircases twisted around to meet face to face. Draco moved inside with the rest of the group to inspect their new home, and found that when standing by the mouth of the staircases you could see directly up into the next floor, and that there appeared to be some sort of library. Behind the stairs is a long wooden dining table, empty except for a small bouquet of white and  _purple_ flowers in the center. Gone were the swinging pendulums, gone were the large metal doors leading to the outside - when McGonnagal said it had been damaged, she really meant it. 

"As you can see, there is a large table near the back of the room; this is here because, as Eighth year students, you are old enough to not have to come to the Great Hall and eat with everybody else - you are all of age now and I hope you are mature enough to be civilised and eat your meals together as a house."

"But why do we have our own table in the Great Hall if we wont be eating there?" A Ravenclaw, Michael Corner if Draco remembers correctly, asks.

"You have your own table, Mr Corner, because you will be required to eat in the Great Hall on the first of every month, on occasions such as the Halloween feast, and as and when you are required to do so by a member of staff - you will be notified on the notice board such be the case." she finished, indicating to a large cork board on the wall by the door. "You may also go to the Great Hall should you wish to."

Draco liked that he wouldn't be forced to go to the Great Hall for every meal, but he also felt dread in the pit of his stomach at having to eat in a personal environment with Potter... or (Merlin help him) _Pansy_.

"Now, shall we go over some rules? And then I shall allow you to explore your new common room." McGonnagal asked, though she didn't wait for any answer before continuing. "As you are all of age now, you have been given more freedom - or shall we say, less restrictions. Previously, students were only allowed to visit Hogsmeade on allocated weekends, now, however, your year will be given free reign on when you choose to visit Hogsmeade - just so long as it is on a weekend  _only_." An excited buzz passed along the twenty-four students. "You have access to the books in the restricted section as long as you do not take them out of the library, and as well as that, you have your own library upstairs with books you will and will not find in the regular library."

"Brilliant." Draco head Granger mutter, and as much as it pained him, he had to agree. 

"Now that you are all of age, I'm sure that you are aware that you are now old enough, but law, to be able to do more things outside of school-"

"Like go for a drink in the Three Broomsticks?" Finnigan interrupted, high-fiving Thomas with a shit-eating grin on his face. McGonnagal pursed her lips but nodded.

"Yes, Mr Finnigan, like drinking and apparating." She paused, assessing everyone's faces with a warning in her eyes and pursed lips. "We cannot stop you from drinking, but should you be caught making a disturbance on school grounds due to alcohol consumption you will be privy to punishment - do I make myself clear." A collection of nods. "Good. Your curfew has been lifted - but, as before, if there are any disturbances you will lose that privilege. Alcohol consumption will also not be tolerated on school grounds, nor will fornication of any kind."

Draco squirmed uncomfortably, as did many others in the group. 

"Your studies are your first and most important focus." McGonnagal stated, "speaking of your studies; timetables will be given to you tomorrow evening in time for monday's classes - as it is a saturday you get tomorrow to get settled in. You may notice an extra subject on your timetables as it is now a requirement that every student above the age of fifteen learn to do basic spells such as cooking and cleaning spells, as well as basic medical spells. This subject has been added three times a fortnight and is for your own benefit, it will be split into three parts; the first shall be taught by Madame Ponfrey in the Hospital Wing, she will teach all of you basic medical spells you may need in the future. The second shall be taught by myself, I will teach you housework spells and such. The last shall be taught by Professor Penrose, in his class you will learn how to cook and clean like muggles."

"Like _muggles_?!" Pansy shrieked, and all eyes turned to her. "When are we  _ever_ going to need to cook like muggles?!"

McGonnagal pursed her lips once more. "You never know Miss Parkinson, however, the class is mandatory so I suggest you not complain too much." Pansy huffed, her face a delicious beetroot red colour that clashed horribly with her purple tie. McGonnagal said her goodbyes, leaving the group standing around their over-spacious common room, unsure as what to do.

"Well." Theodore said, clapping his hands together. "What do we do now, then?" 

Nobody said anything, and then one of the Hufflepuffs Draco didn't know the name of spoke up. "She never told us where our dorm rooms are..." She said, her voice so quiet Draco had to strain to listen over the crackling fireplaces. 

Anothony Goldstein rolled his eyes. " _Obviously_   they're on the fifth floor, Florence."

Florence* stuttered, blinking tears away furiously at Goldstein's unnecessary harsh remark. "And how exactly would that be  _obvious_ Goldstein?"  Susan Bones stepped in, wrapping an arm around Florence's protectively and glaring at the Ravenclaw. Draco sighed and perched himself onto the arm of the closest chintz chair, readying himself for the oncoming squabble. 

"Because there's only five floors, Bones, and she already told us that the fourth is a library."

"That doesn't make it obvious! The dorms could have been underground."

"Do  _you_ see any stairs going  _down?_ Because I sure don't... And besides, we're on the third floor, if that were the case then the dorms would be on the second floor."

Susan and Goldstein were almost neck and neck now, poor Florence looked like she would burst into tears at any moment. "The clock tower is built on a  _hill,_ Goldstein, anything below here is underground!"

"That still doesn't-"

"Enough!" Someone interrupted, and all eyes turned to Granger. "Arguing will get us nowhere."

"Shut up, Granger, I was rather enjoying the show." Blaise said, a smug grin on his lips - Draco could have smacked him.

"Oy! Don't you tell my girlfriend to shut up!" Weasley intervened, pointing his finger at Blaise who's grin only grew wider. 

"Finally made your move, eh Weasel?" Blaise continued, Theodore and Goyle moving to stand by his side. Draco stayed out of the way, hoping to Merlin that this wouldn't come to blows but, seeing as how red the Weasel's face had gotten, he knew it most likely would. 

"That's none of your business." Weasley sniffed.

"Oh c'mon, Weasley! We're a house now - let's share all of our secrets and paint each other's nails!" Draco snorted, and then immediately regretted it as Weasley rounded on him.

"Got something to say, Ferret? Go on then, throw in your sickle like you always do!"

Draco remained calm, refusing to rise to the challenge - he had changed for the better and he wasn't about to go back for a _Weasley_. "I didn't say _anything_ , Weasley. I want no part in this."

Weasley scoffed. "That's a start - lost your bollocks in the war, Malfoy?"

Draco bit his lip to keep from sneering. "Sit down Weasley, listen to your girlfriend now wont you? Arguing will get us nowhere."

Weasley snarled, jabbing a finger into Draco's chest, causing him to grab onto the chair to keep from tumbling backwards. "Screw that - I wanna know what your game is!"

"Game?"

"Yeah! Suddenly playing the part of the wounded pacifist when we all know what  _you_ were doing during the war, acting all buddy-buddy with Luna, why are you even back, Malfoy?!"

Draco stood so suddenly, Weasley reeled backwards. "You don't know shit, Weasel." Draco snarled, and then - hoping that Goldstein, the insufferable snob, was right - he stormed up the stairs, ignoring Pansy's cry for him to wait, and sought out the dorm rooms. Draco was in dorm room three with Blaise, and it didn't take him long to locate the painted metal spiral staircase in between two rows of books in the very center of the fourth floor landing, and even less time to spot his room across from the mouth of the stairs and unlock it - slamming the door shut behind him. 

He knew coming back would be hard; knew he would be hated. _Guess I overestimated my own endurance._ He thought, bitterly, as he dropped onto the bed closest to the large window, looking over the small courtyard where Professor Trelawny was fired in fifth year - and beyond that, he could see the mountains beyond the school grounds. A lone thestral flew across the scene, and Draco turned away sharply. By the door, Draco and Blaise's trunks and other belongings had been neatly piled up, and Draco resorted himself to getting unpacked.

It was going to be a long year.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **  
> Magenta Cresswell - to avid HP fans, the name Cresswell might ring a bell? Dirk Cresswell was one of the muggle-born wizards who went on the run with Dean Thomas, Ted Tonks and Griphook, he was killed by Death Eaters eventually. He canonically has a wife who (as far as I can see from research) was not given a first name, so I chose the first name Magenta from one of JKR's Wizards of the Month from 2007. 
> 
> Elveira Elkins - I give you major props if you recognised this name. Elveira Elkins was a witch who wrote to the Daily Prophet for help with a fixing charm. I decided to use her because she is a canon character in the HP universe and I thought her character was small enough to be able to adapt it. Of course, there will be some references to her tiny appearance in the series. (She can't make a fixing charm stick but she sure as hell can fight off a dementor). 
> 
> Florence Flume - Flume is the last name of the owners of Honeydukes, I'm not sure if they canonically have a child in Hogwarts but I needed another Hufflepuff so there we go.
> 
>  
> 
> Just a warning: Draco's chapters will probably be far darker than Harry's. I had originally planned to have the whole story told in Draco's POV but then i figured it would be too dark and we needed some of that lightheartedness from the first HP books. At least he has Luna and Blaise looking out for him (im obsessed with the idea of Draco and Luna being friends!)
> 
> Thank you for reading and drop me a comment if you like it or you don't or I've made a spelling error (I tend to write too fast and don't have a beta so it's just little ole me and an abundance of keyboard errors and basic grammar problems. 
> 
> Also, yes, MCR, because im THAT emo.


	3. Chapter 3: Midnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Insomnia is a bitch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you get it bad  
> You don't deserve this  
> And I won't put up  
> With their ignorance
> 
> And they tell you  
> They love you  
> Well they don't mean it
> 
> {Sea Creatures // SOAK}

**Harry**

 

 

 

"Well I'm sorry Zabini! How was I supposed to know he would flip out?!"

"You don't need to know he'd 'flip out' for you to have the common courtesy not to point fingers at people!"

"Court-  _courtesy?!_  The git was a deatheater who tried to kill us more than once and you're talking  _courtesy?!_ " Ron seethed. "Maybe he should have had the courtesy not to return this year!"

Blaise seemed to become even more angry at this statement but, before he could get a word out, Pansy leapt to Malfoy's defense. "He has every right to be here, Weasley!"

Harry chose this moment to zone back out, because Ron was opening his mouth again and his face was an awful red shade and Hermione looked like she was ready to storm out of the room and everyone else just looked awkward. When Malfoy had stormed out, the silence had lasted all but a second before Zabini was shouting at Ron, and Ron was shouting back, and it didn't seem like it was going to stop anytime soon. Harry chanced a glance towards the stairs where Draco had disappeared, but the boy wasn't anywhere in sight and there was no way Harry could escape to his own room without a horde of questions following in his path. 

"Shut up mudblood!" The word snapped Harry out of his reverie, and soon multiple wands were drawn in Pansy's direction. The girl looked slightly stunned at such a display of protectiveness from the Gryffindors, but no more so than Hermione did herself. Hermione - apparently having tried to stop the arguing - was standing with her arms frozen in a calming gesture with her eyes comically wide as the remaining Gryiffindors came to her aide. 

"Don't you dare say those words ever again." Ron growled dangerously.

Pansy shook herself and snapped her jaw shut. "You don't tell me what to do."

"Look mate," Seamus interjected. "The way I see it, is that there are more people in this room willing to hex you for saying that word than there are to defend you against our hexes - so if you ever, call anyone that again, we don't really have to worry about you and your Slytherin cronies coming after us."

Pansy seethed, but it was Hermione who spoke next. "Stop it, everyone! It doesn't bother me. Not anymore." 

Harry moved forwards to place a soothing hand on his best friend's shoulder, recieving a grateful smile in return. Slowly, the Gryffindors lowered their wands, and Ron's arm snaked around Hermione's waist. 

"What the Hell does ' _not anymore'_  mean, Granger?" Millicent sneered. Hermione squared her jaw and stepped towards the group of Slytherins, pulling her robe sleeve up as she did so, revealing the pale white scar on the inside of her left forearm.

_Mudblood._

A series of gasps went around the room as the word was revealed, etched permanently onto her skin. "Bellatrix Lestrange did that to me" She ripped her sleeve back down. "I'm not ashamed of being a mudblood."

Nobody said anything as Hermione sat herself down on one of the plush sofas in front of the fireplace, but slowly - ever so slowly - people began to join her, starting with Harry sitting himself next to Hermione on the sofa, and then Ron. When everyone was sitting down, some on the floor and a few on the sofas on the other end of the room, Hermione spoke again. "I think we should sort out this rooming situation."

"What do you mean?" Melinda Bobbin, a girl Harry recognised from the Slug Club, asked. 

"Well, not everyone knows who they're rooming with, so I suppose we should figure that out."

Everyone nodded, including a few begrudging Slytherins. 

"How should we do this?" Hermione mumbled to herself.

"How about we just go to our rooms and get on with it?" Theodore Nott snapped impatiently, to which Hermione replied with a withering look.

"No, you all heard the hat, we should do this as a house." Neville piped up, a determined yet anxious gleam in his eye.

"I agree!" Hannah exclaimed, a wide grin on her face. "We're all going to be sharing this space - we might as well try and get along!"

"Yeah!" Anthony Goldstein chimed in, sarcasm lacing his tone. "And on friday's we should all sit down as a group and tell each other our sob stories!"  

Hannah seemed to close off, her shoulder slumping as embarrassment overshadowed her previous excitement. "That's a good idea, Anthony!" Hermione said, smirking as she did so. "We'll call them house nights."

Anthony stared at her in horror, and Harry couldn't stop himself from laughing. "Are we going to sort this out or not then?" He asked, comfortable with the knowledge that he would be sharing a dorm room with Ron. 

"Yes, Harry!" Hermione trilled. "Who is in dorm room one?" 

"I am." Neville murmured, nervously looking around the group to see who would be joining him.

Much to his horror, it was a Slytherin who spoke - or laughed would be a better term - up. "Hah! Goyle you're stuck with Longbottom!" Millicent cackled.

"Good luck, mate!" Theodore joined in. Goyle glowered at his snickering friends, and then at Neville, but otherwise didn't say anything. Neville, his courage shining through, simply smiled at his new roommate. That would be an interesting match for sure. 

Hermione cleared her throat. "I'm in room two, who else?"

Another round of snickers arose from the Slytherin group. "I am." A girl said, her voice high-pitched like a childs but her body lean and tall. She had a square-ish face and angled jawline but her eyes were wide, like a child's, and a brown so dark they were almost all black giving her the strange appearance of a child's face on an adults body. "I'm Daphne Greengrass, I look forward to sharing with you." She smiled, and it didn't look forced. Harry noted the paleness of her skin and light blonde hair, if it weren't for the lack of pointy chin and her dark brown eyes, he'd say she was related to Malfoy. 

"I-yes, it's nice to meet you." Hermione stuttered, taken aback by the - obviously pureblooded - Slytherin's kindness. Pansy scowled at the girl, muttering a "really Daph?" so low Harry almost missed it, Daphne ignored her, choosing instead to stick her tongue out at a smirking Blaise. 

"I'm in dorm room three." The boy spoke up. "With Draco, so you can skip that one."

"Milli and I are in four!" Pansy added, a note of superiority in her voice - as if four was some special number. Harry rolled his eyes at Ron who breathed out a quiet laugh in response. 

"Well then." Hermione said. "Five?" She looked around expectantly, and both Terry and Theodore raised their hands almost in perfect unison. 

"Great." Theodore sniffed.

"I'm not so chuffed either, mate." Terry scoffed. 

" _Six?"_  Hermione interjected loudly, before another argument could break out. 

"That's Ernie and I." Justin said, just as pointedly as Hermione had. Harry rolled his eyes again. 

"Seven?" Hermione asked, ignoring Justin's smug smile. 

Seamus and Dean cheekily raised their hands, twin grins on their faces. 

"Eight?"

Susan and Hannah.

"I already know Harry and Ron are in room nine, so ten?"

Michael and Anthony were in room ten, Mandy and Melinda were in room eleven, and that left two girls Harry didn't know in room twelve. One, a girl with bright hazel eyes in contrast with her dark skin, curly black hair cropped just above the shoulders and a rounded face, introduced herself as Selma Fawcett with a large confident grin on her face. The second, a rather short, frail girl with a freckled face like Ron's and long auburn hair. Her eyes were a dark emerald green colour like Harry's and she spoke in a heavy Scottish accent - her name was Florence. The two seemed nice as far as Harry could tell, and it seemed as if he would be able to get along with most of the Eighths - discounting a few of the Slytherins.

"Can we go to our rooms now? I'm tired and you're all boring." Pansy remarked, arms crossed and with a hint of deadpan to her words. 

"Do what you want, Pans." Blaise sighed, a lazy smile spread across his cheeks. "I want to get to know my housemates a little more - who's up for a few party games?"

"Ugh." Pansy scoffed, already halfway to the stairs, at the same time as Seamus exclaimed, "what sort of party games?"

Harry was surprised at Seamus, being so open to 'get to know' the Slytherins. 

"A little truth or dare? Never have I ever? Twenty questions?" 

"This is a stupid idea." Selma remarked. "We don't have any alcohol to play with."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I have never even heard of these games." Ron mumbled at his side. 

"They're muggle games, Ronald." Hermione informed him, squeezing his hand and frowning at Selma.

"I have alcohol!" Dean chimed, a large grin on his face. 

"None of that muggle shite, Dean! It's rank!" Seamus joked, but he too was grinning. Harry yawned where he was sat and decided that now would be as good of a time as any to disappear upstairs. He couldn't be bothered to join in on their games tonight, couldn't be bothered to try and get along with drunken people he hated before the war. It seems Harry isn't the only one with that idea as, almost as soon as he reaches the staircase, someone joins him at the foot of the stairs. Harry glances over as he begins his ascent and is glad to find that it is only Hannah.

The girl gave him a kind smile as they made their way up the curving stairs to the library. "Not much of a drinker, Harry?"

Harry shook his head. "Just not in the mood today."

"I don't think you're the only one. I can't imagine they'll be down there long."

"What about you?"

She seemed surprised, muttering a startled "Hm?" as they reached the fourth floor landing. They had weaved between a bookcase almost as tall as the ceiling and began to climb the spiral staircase before Harry continued.

"Don't drink?"

"Oh! No, my parents are Buddhists; we try to avoid alcohol and things like that." 

Harry had never met a Buddhist before, and the surprise obviously showed on his face as the girl smiled in understanding. They'd reached the top of the stairs, but had both stopped walking at her words. "You're Buddhist?" Harry said dumbly, aware of how stupid he must sound.

Hannah giggled, but it seemed empty. "No, but I guess it rubbed off on me a bit." Then her smile turned more somber, "are you all right, Harry?"

Harry blanched. "I'm fine?" The words twisted themselves into a question, and Harry took a moment to assess if he was questioning her or himself. He wasn't too sure anymore. 

"You've been awfully quiet today." Hannah reminded him so much of Luna in that moment, with her light hair and inquisitive gaze, that Harry was almost lost with what to say.

"I- Long day, I guess."

"Yes." She reached over and placed a hand on his shoulder, and then leaned back and skipped around him to Dorm Eight. "Goodnight, Harry!" She said, before closing the door behind her and disappearing from view. Harry stood still for a moment, recollecting his thoughts that had scattered across his brain with the suddenness of her words. He hadn't expected the girl to be quite so...  _perceptive,_ but there you have it. 

Harry straightened himself out and followed in her footsteps, moving silently past the door she had disappeared behind and entering his own dorm without allowing himself a second thought.

 

* * *

 

Long after the other Eighth's had given up playing party games with Dean's muggle alcohol - and after a few or more people stormed upstairs in a huff after a pretty hefty row that even Harry could hear, and he was pretty sure the whole castle could hear - Harry lay awake in his room, tiring of listening to Ron's snoring.

He sat up, deciding that if he wasn't going to sleep, he might as well explore the library they had been given. Harry didn't bother to tiptoe as he wandered out of his room, barefooted and wearing only his plain blue pajama bottoms, he knew Ron well enough by now to know he would sleep through a third wizarding war if nobody woke him up. Harry did, however, tiptoe down the spiral staircase, worried that somebody else might be a light sleeper and come investigate the footsteps. 

Harry strolled around the bookshelves for a while, tracing his finger along the spines and noticing a mixture of muggle books among the wizard books. Sighing, he pulled out a green and brown hardcover book without bothering to read the title, and wandered over to the front of the room, where the old clock face used to be. Harry sat down on the curved bench underneath the clock, built into the wall, and rested so that his back was to the stone ledge around the perimeter of the clock. The clock face had been transformed into a window after the war destroyed it, it overlooked the courtyard - and beyond that the tree covered hills of Scotland. Hagrid's hut was dark and eerie looking in the distance, newly built after it too had been destroyed in the war. 

To Harry's left, the staircases leading to the third floor common room opened up, the floor below dim with only the dying embers of the fireplaces providing light. Harry opened his book, and began to read by the moonlight streaming in through the strange window. The words refused to sink in however, and soon Harry found himself staring out through the glass - eyes going around and around where he knew there once to be numbers. It was strange, seeing the clock hands still there, forever stuck at the time they were at when the face was shattered. Two thirty, the clock read. 

Harry was startled out of his musings when a rustling came from downstairs, he whipped his head around just in time to see a shadow pass by the fire, and then a head of silver-blonde hair appeared at the bottom of the stairs. Harry said nothing as Malfoy ascended, wrapped in a blanket and staring at his feet as he walked. Malfoy would have walked straight past him, if Harry hadn't accidentally dropped the book at the exact moment the other boy reached the landing. 

"Uh." Harry said, as Malfoy's eyes flashed with distrust, one thin pale hand clutching the blanket tighter around slim shoulders. Harry bit his lip, and reached down to pick up the book. "Sorry?" 

Malfoy arched one pale eyebrow, his skin practically glowing in the moonlight. "Why?"

"Why what?"

Malfoy sighed exasperatedly. "Why are you sorry?" 

Harry blanched at the non-spiteful way Malfoy spoke to him - it was stony yes, but there was none of Malfoy's usual malice laced in. "For... Dropping my book... I guess?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes, "why would you apologise to me for dropping your book?"

Harry was completely floored, floored that Malfoy hadn't stormed upstairs or hexed him yet, and floored because this is the longest conversation Harry has ever had with the boy that didn't include some form of insult. "I guess that's kind of stupid."

Malfoy only hummed, and hitched his blanket around his shoulders tighter. Harry wandered for a moment if Malfoy was wearing clothes underneath, or only his boxers, and then he promptly wiped that memory from his mind and tapped his fingers against the hardcover of his book for lack of a better thing to do.

"What are you reading?" Malfoy suddenly asked, and Harry only lifted the book into the limited light the moon supplied to show Malfoy the cover - because, to be completely honest, he still wasn't sure what the book was called. "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest?" He hummed. "I didn't peg you as the kind of person to read something like that."

"Something like what?" Harry asked defensively. 

Malfoy only looked bemused at Harry's offence, moving to lean against the banister casually while still keeping his blanket wrapped close to his body. His grip slipped a little though, and the pale expanse of one bony shoulder was revealed for a mere moment before Malfoy corrected his error. "I only meant that I didn't think you'd be into the more thought provoking books, I've barely even seen you read your school books."

Harry scowled. "You can talk! Reading muggle books, Malfoy? Thought that would be below you."

Now it was Malfoy's turn to scowl. "Whatever, Potter." He looked away, but made no move to leave. Harry sort of didn't want him to leave, as much as he hated - did he really hate him? - the git, he hated being alone when he couldn't sleep more.

"I don't read, really." He said quickly, as if scared Malfoy would leave him alone after all. Malfoy's head whipped back in Harry's direction.

"Pardon?"

Harry licked his suddenly dry lips, once more tapping his fingers against the book. "I wasn't really reading it - this," he held up the book,  _One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest,_ and gestured with the hand that he was using to tap, "and I don't really read all that often - you're right."

Malfoy seemed surprised, and then quickly schooled his expression into one of smugness. "Of course I am, Potter."

Harry ignored him. "Why are you-" He cut himself off, suddenly realising he didn't know how to finish that question. There were too many things he wanted to ask;  _why are you downstairs in the middle of the night? Why are you being nice to me? Why are you back at Hogwarts? Why are you?_

"Why am I what?" He asked, his voice taking on a hard edge, as if in warning. _Don't cross the line, Harry. Don't you dare cross it._

Harry shook his head. "There are far too many ways to finish that sentence..."

There was silence for a few moments, where Harry glanced from Malfoy, to his book, to the window, then back to Malfoy - and all the while Malfoy watched with a steely gaze, his silver-grey-blue eyes almost glowing bio-luminescent in the dark moonlight. Then finally, he broke the silence just as it was becoming too hard to bare. "My answers would probably be the same as yours."

"You don't even know the questions, Malfoy." Harry muttered without thinking, rolling his eyes. 

"No, but you do." He smiled smugly at Harry's dumb look, eyebrow cocked in confusion and eyes squinting in Malfoy's direction. "I think you should read that book, Potter."

He made his way around the bookshelf that hid the spiral staircase, blanket trailing behind him like a cape, and Harry didn't try and stop him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DAPHNE! For a reference on how Daphne looks (to me at least) google Halsey with blonde hair. Daphne is gonna be a brilliant character I'm excited for her.  
> SELMA! For Selma i like the idea of Amandla Stenberg playing her idk?  
> FLORENCE! Ok I know i pretty much described Karen Gillan but that wasn't my intention - I actually didn't have a celebrity in mind for her I just went for the stereotypical Scotsman look. If you really wanted to be specific on her looks I'd say Elle Fanning a la ginger.
> 
> The book One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest is by Ken Kesey and I'm reading it for my English Literature course and it is very good so if you haven't read it then go do that - but be warned, it isn't a happy or nice book!

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic on AO3 but not my first fanfic - see some of my Dan and Phil fics on Wattpad (icanseelights) if you're into those two losers.
> 
> I'll try and get the characterizations right because i love HP too much to bastardize them too much however a few certain things may have to change in order for this fanfic to work so sorry if theyre not exxactly how you'd want them to be. As of right now i have no idea how long this is going to be or if there'll be a sequel and i will be adding tags as i go along and maybe even changing the rating.


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